


let the dog decide

by kingsoftheimpossible



Series: let the dog decide [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fisting, Human-Werewolf Interactions, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, Other, Pet Names, Puppy Play, Scent Kink, The X Factor Bungalow, Where We Are Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsoftheimpossible/pseuds/kingsoftheimpossible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s- you know how- have you ever watched dogs fuck?”<br/>“I’m out,” Zayn mutters, popping up off the couch and heading for the door.<br/>-or-<br/>everything is the same, except Niall is a werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let the dog decide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostwinter/gifts).



> thanks to g, a, m, h, and b for looking this over and encouraging me along the way. 
> 
> the dates/concerts in this are shifted around for my convenience, not that it comes up much. the puppy play is very light and mostly in hints, i think. the D/s is also not present in a sexual context, in my opinion.
> 
> title from ["a werewolf" by attic abasement](http://youtu.be/UzGFEr9oy14) (free bandcamp download in video description)

* * *

What good’s a reluctant wolf anyway?  
The other wolves just get it drunk  
then tie it to a post. Poor pup.  
Here’s my hand. Bite.

-Dean Young, from ["Could Have Danced All Night"](http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/could-have-danced-all-night)

 

* * *

 

“Fuck off,” is the first thing anyone says, and it’s Zayn that says it, and he’s laughing. Niall wants to say, _“No, I’m serious!”_ but it’s hard not to laugh when Zayn’s got his tongue between his teeth, face scrunched up like that.

Niall had expected Louis to speak first, but he’s just sitting on the couch with a hand absently carding through the hair of a very nearly-naked Harry, who looks half asleep and very confused. Niall catches Louis’ eye and Louis smiles, a quick, secret thing, like this is some sort of inside joke for the two of them. Niall’s stomach flips.

It’s Liam who speaks next, and he looks- _angry,_ actually, which Niall hadn’t really expected.

“This isn’t a joke,” Liam says, face tight, voice hard in a way that makes the others shift and frown, nervous.

“I’m not joking,” says Niall, a little desperately, because for this to work- this band thing, this X Factor thing, this spending the foreseeable future together thing- they have to believe him. They have to understand.

Liam’s on his feet quickly, pacing, agitated. “This is why I didn’t want to be in a group- none of you take it seriously!” he says, breathing too quickly, and Jesus, Niall’s made him cry already.

He’s about to say it again- _I am serious, I swear_ \- when Louis squawks, apparently offended. “ _Excuse me_ , Leem, I am one hundred percent committed to Huge Erection.” Niall thinks vaguely that Liam will probably have a heart condition to go along with his dead kidney by the time this bungalow trip is over. “Just because Niall’s a werewolf and I’m a bat demon from hell doesn’t mean we’re not in it to win it,” Louis finishes, flashing Niall that sharp, private little grin again, like this is all a game.

“I can’t do this,” is all Liam says, throwing his hands up and making to leave the room.

Niall panics, because the band can’t fall apart before it’s even together- not because of him and his weird fucking curse. He barks out, “I can prove it!” and the room goes still, everyone’s eyes sliding away from the pounding vein in Liam’s neck to Niall, standing like an idiot in the center of the room.

He looks to Louis, desperate for someone to be on his side, but Louis looks suspicious now, eyebrows drawn together.

“I can prove it,” Niall repeats, forcing his voice steady despite his jackrabbiting pulse. “But it’s gonna be weird.”

It’s quiet for a long moment before Louis snorts. “How weird can it be? Are you gonna pull a _Twilight_ in the living room? Should we go outside so you don’t tear the house apart?” He’s not quite smiling anymore, but he is playing along while the rest of them seem lost, and Niall is so, so thankful.

“Well, it’s not a full moon,” Niall reasons aloud, breathing out a low sigh of relief that they’re all listening still, willing, even slightly, to give him a chance. Not only is it not a full moon, but he hasn't  _actually_ presented yet, so he couldn't change for them even if it was. He feels like telling them that would sound a bit shady, though, when they already look on the verge of calling mental health services. “It’s- you know how- have you ever watched dogs fuck?”

“I’m out,” Zayn mutters, popping up off the couch and heading for the door.

“Sit down,” Louis snaps, and his sharp grin is back, eyes shining with amusement. Zayn scowls at Louis and then at Niall, like they’re trying to pull something over on him.

“I promise I’m not fucking around,” Niall says, quiet and earnest, meeting Zayn’s eyes and willing him to stay, to believe.

Zayn hesitates, and then sighs heavily and flops back onto the couch beside Liam.

“Anyway-” Niall’s heart is beating so fast. He focuses on keeping eye contact with Zayn, because Zayn is kind and warm and Niall needs Zayn to like him and not think he’s crazy. “So, when dogs go at it, there’s, like-”

“A knot,” Harry rasps, the first word he’s spoken all morning, maybe, too busy being curled up smug and mostly naked at Louis’ feet. Everyone blinks at him, and he just smiles lazily, nudging his head back against Louis’ knee for him to resume stroking Harry’s hair.

Niall clears his throat awkwardly. “Well...yeah, actually. So-”

“What do you mean, _‘a knot’_?” Liam asks, frowning.

“‘s like the bottom of their dick swells up and locks them inside the other dog,” says Zayn, and Louis looks absolutely delighted.

“Can we rename our band something about dog dicks, since everyone seems so well-versed on the subject?” he asks brightly, and Liam gives an anguished sort of gurgle. “Something clever- _Knotting Hill_ , right?”

Liam’s frown has been passed to Harry, who's looking at Niall like something out of a biology textbook. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he murmurs, and that gets everyone’s attention again.

Niall’s face flames up fast as anything, whole body going shame-hot so fast he nearly faints, but- “Yeah.”

Zayn chimes in with, “No fucking way,” while Liam drops his head into his hands and moans.

“Get it out then,” is Louis’ pragmatic solution. “Show and tell, Nialler.”

The nickname makes the shame-burn fade into something more pleasant, but Niall grimaces, because- “It won’t do it if it’s just me.” There's all sorts of biology and shit behind it, probably, but all Niall really knows is that it's _true._

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up and he sits that bit straighter between Louis’ legs. “Is this some sort of like, pull tactic to get handjobs?” he asks seriously. “Because if it is, that’s kind of genius- but also sort of fucked up, I think?”

“It’s _not_ ,” Niall says emphatically, shaking his head. “I just- I need one of you to help me, and then we’ll all know, and we can move on- okay?”

It’s deep-space silent for what seems like an hour. Niall can feel his heartbeat pounding behind his eyes.

It’s Louis who jumps up, rolling his eyes at the shocked faces of the other three. “What’s a handjob between bandmates?” he asks airily. “It’s a dick, not a marriage proposal, Jesus.” He turns away from the others and meets Niall’s eyes. “That being said, if this is bullshit, I’ll shove your balls in your mouth, Horan.”

“If it’s bullshit, I’ll just return the favor,” Niall shoots back, cocky and about a thousand times braver than he feels, grinning at Louis like he hung the fucking sun, because it feels like that right now.

“Fair’s fair,” Louis agrees. He holds out his hand, palm-up, gesturing imperiously. “Come on, hand it over,” he says, raising one eyebrow and wiggling his fingers suggestively.

A shiver runs through Niall’s entire body as he shoves his shorts down his scrawny thighs, cheeks burning red when Louis just looks at him, arching an eyebrow higher. It's that much worse because he can see the others over Louis' shoulder, Liam legitimately covering his eyes, Zayn pretending to look at his phone, and Harry, staring directly Niall's exposed dick like this is just an everyday occurrence.

"Hey," Louis snaps, and Niall jumps, nervous gaze sliding to meet Louis'. "Eyes on me," he says, gesturing between the two of them. "It's only polite." He grins, sharp and pretty, and then sticks his hand between Niall's legs without any further ado.

As far as Niall knows, exhibitionism isn't really his thing. It's actually almost the opposite of his thing, so that even with half the people in the room pretending not to watch, it takes him several minutes to actually get hard, even with Louis' warm hand working away. "I'm starting to feel like you think I'm ugly," Louis says, sounding a little put-out, but he's almost laughing.

"I- I don't!" Niall laughs, too, high and unnatural. "You're- y'know," he tries, but he's so nervous the words are squeaky, barely audible. So much is riding on a handjob. And also he's getting a handjob.

Louis sighs dramatically. "You're really overthinking this- here, kiss me."

Niall gasps out, " _What?_ ", but doesn't pull back when Louis presses their lips together, soft and careful like he's trying not to spook Niall off. It's nice- distracting enough that Niall can ignore the rustling about of the other three on the couch, but gentle enough he can let Louis take the lead, relax and focus on the feel of Louis' hand sliding over him. It's too dry, but he's keyed up, blood rushing everywhere anyway, so _might as well get a boner,_ right?

Louis makes a pleased sound against his mouth when Niall stiffens up properly, moves in closer until their bodies are touching, toes to tongues. "That's great, you're doing really well," Louis mumbles, soft enough the others won't hear, and a wave of heat rolls down Niall's spine, leaves him bleary-eyed and shaky looking up at Louis and nodding dumbly.

"Yeah," he says, not even sure what he's responding to. Louis' smiling when he brings their mouths back together, one tame kiss before he breaks away again, dropping Niall's dick and bringing his hand up to Nial's mouth, palm out. Niall makes an aborted noise at the loss of Louis' touch, then another unsure one as he blinks heavily at Louis' hand in his face, confused.

"Give it a lick, pup," Louis prompts, waving it closer to Niall's mouth. The nickname makes Niall's dick twitch, and he decides to ignore that and never think about it again. "I'm going to get carpet burn tugging away at your prick at this rate." Niall doesn't really question it, just sticks his tongue out and wets Louis' palm, stomach twisting hot at the taste of his skin mixed with Louis'.

When Louis wraps a fist around him this time, he isn't nearly as gentle, but it's better- the slick slide of his hand and their mouths close together, not kissing but breathing, working towards something. Someone's gasping, loud, ragged breaths, and it takes a minute for Niall to realize it's _him_. He squeezes his eyes shut, bare toes digging into the wood flooring to combat the too-good of it, the way his body's going hot and weak. Their foreheads knock together (in any other situation it would be funny, thinks Niall), Louis' free arm sneaking around Niall's waist to keep him upright, and it's so _hot_ between them, the air thick with the sweat prickling on Niall's skin and their labored breaths.

"Come on, show us your knot, let's see it-" The _us_ catches Niall off guard, takes his breath away and shocks the orgasm out of him. He'd forgotten the others watching from the couch, but he looks up in time to see them all wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and it makes him double over, bury his face in Louis' armpit while his dick jerks and he shakes through it. Louis' hand wraps tight around the expanding base of Niall's cock, and he makes a shocked, interested sort of noise somewhere up above where Niall is floating light-headed and blissed out.

He hears Louis swear, "Christ," and feels his fingers exploring the tender swollen skin, prodding at it like he thinks it might hurt. It does a bit, but as long as he keeps touching it, Niall will keep coming; that's just how it works.

There's shuffling across the room, and through the still-going orgasm-haze, Niall feels the others standing, wearily coming closer.

"Well?" Zayn prompts, voice gruffer than usual. Niall tears his eyes open finally, still gasping as his dick twitches weakly in Louis' hand, and finds the other three looking at him with almost comically huge eyes.

"It's real," is all Louis says, nodding down at his own hand still squeezing the knot. That seems to remind him that he _is_ still touching it, and he laughs at himself as he lets go, examining Niall more closely now that he's done his part. He also frowns down at the massive come stains covering the front of his joggers, soaked through with Niall's wet. His nose scrunches up, but he doesn't complain, just wipes his hand on the driest bit he can find.

"Wow," Harry says,"that's huge." His cheeks are a hectic sort of red and he's looking at Niall's dick with his mouth hanging slightly open, like he might start drooling any second.

"Jesus, Harry, keep your dick in your pants," Louis snaps, shoving him lightly. "Give Niall a minute to recover before you start slobbering all over his knob-"

"I'm just _saying_ -" Harry whines, but Zayn snorts.

"Drop it, H, we can all see your boner through your pants." It's true, Niall realizes, eyes dropping to where Harry's dick is tenting the front of his black briefs. He laughs before he can stop himself, still fuck-stupid and giggly. Louis' arm is still around his waist and he squeezes once, encouraging.

Actually, Louis' also sporting an erection, now that Niall's paying attention. His gray joggers are bulged at the front, and when Niall looks over at Zayn, he's got a similar situation. Liam is suspiciously standing with his back to them all, frowning over his shoulder.

"This is weird, right?" Niall asks, because it's got to be a little weird for them all to be standing around with various stages of boners from watching him get a handjob.

"Nothing's weird if you don't let it be weird," Louis says sagely, then pinches Niall's side before bouncing away. "I'm going to go jerk off in the bathroom, and then we can discuss the whole werewolf whatever over lunch." His frankness is equally shocking and endearing, and he's out of the room before Niall really understands what's happened.

"Yeah, I'm-" Harry says, and then gives up on making an excuse and heads upstairs, probably following Louis' game plan. Zayn just salutes Niall with two fingers, other hand already dropped to cup his dick as he follows Harry up the stairs.

Then it's just Liam, red-faced and uncertain, and Niall with his shrinking knot. Niall isn't expecting it at all when Liam says, "Sorry," and it takes him a few seconds to realize Liam is talking to _him._

 _"_ What for?" Niall asks, brain still humming along slowly. He can't imagine. _He'_ s the one that just made everyone watch him knot up, the one with the weird dick that's only a signpost for weirder things to come- so to speak. That probably warrants some sort of apology as well.

"For snapping at you. And- and not believing you," Liam says earnestly. He finally turns around, and yeah, he's sporting a half-chub. But he seems much more concerned with getting out whatever he's trying to say. "I just want this so much- this band, and the competition and everything. I know I come across sort of- sort of like a prick, sometimes, but this is everything I've ever wanted. It's scary, having to rely on people I don't really know-"

"Hey," Niall cuts in, frowning a bit. "You know us now, yeah? I mean you just watched Louis jerk me off; there's not really much left to know-" They're quiet for a split second before they both laugh, disbelieving.

"I honestly can't believe that just happened," Liam wheezes, and Niall cackles, can't stop himself.

"Christ, me either. We got the weirdness out of the way, though, right? We can't really be uncomfortable with each other after making it through that."

Liam stops laughing, blinks at him, clearly surprised. "You're right," he says, slow smile spreading over his face. "I think- I really think this is gonna be something special- all of us, I mean. The band."

Niall doesn't get a chance to agree before Louis bounds back into the room. He launches himself at the two of them, slinging an arm around each of their necks. "Alright, who's making me a sandwich?"

"I really hope you washed your hands," Liam says, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Louis drops his arm from Niall's shoulder and wrestles Liam to the floor, trying to stick his hands in Liam's face and screeching _COME HANDS_ until Harry and Zayn slouch back into the room looking sleepy and content.

"This band is fucking weird," Zayn mumbles, stepping over Liam and Louis to head to the kitchen.

* * *

The weird thing is that it's four years later and there are so, so, so many conspiracy theories, ranging from fair to absolutely batshit, and yet no one catches on to what feels like the glaringly obvious fact that One Direction have never played a show during a full moon. People have made honest-to-god iPhone apps tracking their shaving habits, but no one, in four years, has noticed how Niall goes a bit stiff around the same time every month or so, disappears from the tabloids completely.

“It’s good they haven’t figured it out,” Liam says kindly, arms wrapped around Niall’s neck and chin resting on top of his head as they lounge on the tour bus. “It would be weird if people just knew.”

Niall laughs, noncommittal, and the sound must be strange because Louis looks up from where he’d been scrolling languidly through his phone. He looks good- well-rested and warm, wrapped up in one of Zayn’s flannel shirts. Niall feels better just having Louis look at him.

“Would it be so weird?” Louis asks, but he’s looking at Niall, not Liam.

Niall swallows, and Liam laughs in his ear. “Don’t be stupid, Tommo, of course it’d be weird! Niall’s a-” he drops his voice, even though it’s only the three of them and the bus driver, “ _you-know-what._ ”

“We all know Niall’s a Virgo, Liam, it’s not some big secret.” Louis rolls his eyes at them both, exasperated but fond. Niall’s a bit surprised Louis actually knows Niall’s a Virgo, wonders if it was just a lucky guess. “What I mean is, doesn’t it feel weirder with everyone not knowing?” he asks, shrugging to himself as he stands and heads to the back of the bus, letting it lie. He’s good at that, better than most people would expect- letting things go. He ruffles Niall’s hair when he passes, casual affection that eases the nerves bubbling up in Niall’s chest.   

Niall stays in the front with Liam for another hour or so, but then Liam gets a call from Sophia and Niall’s not particularly up for getting in the middle of all that again (though it was nice when it happened), so he follows Louis’ path back to the bunks.

His stomach contracts, a happy, pleasant little feeling, when he finds Louis still awake, curled up in his bunk with the curtain open and his phone playing soft music beside his head. Louis looks at Niall for a moment before patting the mattress beside him, scooting back to the wall to give Niall room to haul himself up.

“You’re still a scrawny thing,” is all Louis says when Niall manages to fit his whole body easily into the spare space of Louis’ bunk. It’s hardly a fair thing to say as Louis himself is barely a kitten’s weight soaking wet, but Niall just laughs and rests his head on Louis’ pillow, skin going warm and shivery all over at the smell of it. Louis’ always done that to him, as long as Niall can remember. It’s a weird tic, maybe, something Niall’s never learned to shake, the same way he’s never been able to shake looking at Louis like...

“God, you’re going to give me a complex,” Louis mumbles, shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes and rolling onto his back, huffing a soft laugh. “Sometimes you look at me and it’s like- it’s worse than a whole stadium of fans.”

There’s no real way for Niall to say, _Yeah, feels like that from this end, too,_ so he just pushes at Louis’ hands until they fall away, and then they’re looking at each other again, grinning in the near-dark of the tour bus. Louis reaches out and silences the music from his phone, then rests the tip of his finger delicately on the end of Niall’s nose.

“If you wanted people to know, you know we’d all support you,” he says seriously, which is not what Niall was expecting. “Hell, Harry’d probably let you bite him and come out with you,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Doesn’t work like that,” is all Niall says, because he’s too busy imagining what Louis’d said- a world where he could just be, no sneaking around, no hiding, no excuses. Just him as himself, Niall Horan, part time werewolf, full time boybander. His heart’s speeding up just thinking about it.

“Maybe we could all be werewolves,” Louis muses, dragging his finger from Niall’s nose down to his lips, tugging them apart gently and tapping at one of Niall’s canine teeth thoughtfully. “We’d be the first werewolf boyband. Probably break a shitload of records.”

If it were anyone else, Niall’d tap out and tell them to stop talking shit, remind them they've already broken a shitload of records. But it's Louis, so Niall stays, lets Louis pinch and pull Niall’s face into grotesque expressions until he’s tired himself out and they both nod off.

* * *

Winding down after shows is always harder when the moon is fuller. The adrenaline pumps like fire through Niall’s veins until he’s antsy, pacing the tour bus like a caged thing while Zayn and Louis burn through a small country’s worth of weed. Niall’s never been a fan of the smell, nose too sensitive for the thicky-heavy smoke of it, but he likes how they get, lazy and soft, melting into the couch and each other.

He can feel Louis’ eyes following him as he stalks around the bus, opening the fridge, closing it, rifling through cabinets, rearranging food and dishes, sitting on the couch and then hopping up, frustrated.

“‘s making me tired,” Zayn murmurs, closing his eyes and dragging his lips into a slow smile against Louis’ bare shoulder.

Louis half-giggles, barely a breath, and Niall squeezes nervously at his own thighs, rubbing his sweaty palms over his jeans. “Shhhhh, you’re making him self-conscious,” he stage-whispers into Zayn’s neck, and Zayn snorts.

“I can hear you,” Niall says dumbly, voice keyed up.

“Wolf senses,” whispers Zayn, laughing.

Louis hushes him again, but he’s watching Niall curiously, oddly alert for how heavy-lidded his eyes have gone. “Stressed, pup?” The nickname makes Niall shiver, same as it did the first time. Same as it always does.

“Wired.” Niall cracks his neck, jumps in place a few times. Shakes out his hands. Scratches his nails down his arms. Cracks his neck, again. “Feel like-”

“Sit.”

The word is sharp, Louis’ voice smoke-rough and harsh. Niall blinks at him, shocked into stillness. “What?”

“ _Sit_ , boy,” Louis commands, and there’s that smirk on his face, just shy of cruel, the one that makes Niall’s stomach clench tight.

Niall sits, drops to the floor right where he’s standing, can’t even imagine why he’s done it once he realizes he’s on the ground. That’s something.

Surprise flickers across Louis’ face, slow enough that Niall catches it, but then it’s gone and the smirk is back, more firmly in place than before. He laughs. “Good boy.”

Niall’s face goes hot, and he hides a grin in the crook of his elbow.

Zayn’s frowning between them, eyebrows drawn together. “That’s dead weird.”

“Nah,” Louis says simply, like that’s enough of an explanation. He tilts his head to the side curiously, staring hard at Niall. “Lay down.” It’s not as harsh as the sit, a question in it. Niall does it anyway after a moment, stretches out on his back and grins uncertainly up at Louis.

“Roll over,” Louis says, and he’s smiling, clearly amused now.

Niall rolls onto his belly, looks up to see Louis’ reaction. Louis purses his lips, raises a hand and lazily drags his finger in a full circle, eyebrows raising meaningfully. It’s weird how quickly Niall gets it, keeps rolling over and over til he’s in a breathless heap, sprawled over Zayn’s and Louis’ feet.

“This is _weird_ ,” Zayn repeats emphatically, but Niall and Louis are grinning at each other, Louis’ toes wiggling where they’re trapped under Niall’s shoulder.

“Who’s a good boy?” Louis asks, voice dripping with sarcasm even though he’s smiling so wide Niall can see all his teeth.

“I am,” Niall says dutifully, saluting Louis lazily. He feels good-heavy now, couldn’t imagine getting up and fidgeting around like before. He stays on the carpeted floor, eventually dozing off while Zayn and Louis whisper indistinctly above him.

* * *

 “‘s close to your time of the month,” Louis mumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. Niall's woken up on the tour bus floor, Louis' above him hanging half-off the couch. Zayn's nowhere to be seen, probably stumbled back to a real bed at some point during the night like the survivor he is.

Niall grimaces, not really needing the reminder of the approaching moon with the way his skin’s gone tight and achy the last few days. “Who’s shift this month?” he asks, rolling carefully closer to the couch, into Louis’ space, unsure if it’s alright this morning the way it was last night.

It is. Louis breathes evenly, eyelashes resting fanned and soft against his cheekbones. There are harsh couch-lines pressed into his face from sleep, dried spit in the corner of his mouth. “Liam’s turn. But Sophia’s in town.”

“Oh.” Niall frowns. “I can call my da' in, or Greg, I guess. Fly them out- I should call them now, short notice and all.” He moves to get up off the floor, though he can't even remember where he's put his phone, but then Louis' hand drops to his chest, pressing him to stay put.

He just yawns, “Nah,” finally opening his eyes wide to examine Niall critically, unfazed by their closeness as he hangs precariously off the couch, dangling a few inches above Niall's face. “Told him I’d cover it. I don’t mind.”

Blood rushes to Niall’s cheeks, nerves spiking. He stares hard at the puffy sleep-bags beneath Louis' eyes, bruised purple. He's so much, even like this, hungover and unshowered, smelling like weed and sweat and stage pyrotechnics from the night before.  “You don’t have to do that, Lou. I know I’m- when I get like that, it’s-”

“You’re fun,” Louis says firmly, closing his eyes again and turning onto his back. His hand falls away from Niall's chest, but it still feels like it's there somehow, a phantom limb keeping Niall pinned to the floor. “Now shut the fuck up so I can nap in peace, mutt.”

The _mutt_ doesn’t stick in Niall’s craw the way it used to when Greg called him that when they were kids; it’s a soft word, sweeter than Louis usually allows, and it makes Niall’s whole body go warm and pleasant with it. It reminds him of the first time, back on the X Factor Tour, when Louis’d been the one to sit outside the bathroom door, talking Niall through the cloudy animal haze that’d come over him during his first real change.

He’d been able to smell Louis _so_ clearly, even through the door and the minefield of expensive potpourri and hotel soaps, hadn’t been able to think in words or phrases, just pictures, a deep animal instinct that outside the bathroom door was something _good_ \- something he wanted and needed to get to, something worth tearing his claws apart on the solid wood door. And then Louis’ voice, indistinct, garbled through ears that weren’t meant to pick apart sounds like that- “God, you sound like you’re fucking dying in there- you’re going to scratch through the fucking door-”

And then the door opening.

A split second where Niall’s eyes bulged at the condensed smell of it, his hackles rising and falling at the sight of Louis standing in the doorway ( _“You have to keep it closed, no matter what, no matter what you hear, you’ve got to keep it closed, I don’t know what I’ll be like-””Of course I’ll keep the fucking door closed; it’s not like I have a deathwish.”_ ). Part of Niall was hungry- ravenous- salivating at the smell of blood, meat, sweat like seasoning glistening on flushed skin, the vein pulsing heavy in Louis’ neck, the shaking of his hand on the doorframe-

Then Louis’d just laughed, sharp teeth glinting in the artificial light, standing himself straighter with his chin in the air- Niall, at the time, had just seen dominance, power, hadn’t been able to pick out the tremor running through Louis’ voice when he’d laughed, “Well, look at you.”

It was his voice, Niall thinks later, that saved him, stopped Niall from tearing through Louis' neck and instead sent him cowering to the floor, tail between his legs and tongue lolling from his mouth.

Louis’d knelt, extended a hand that trembled, and smiled; Niall couldn’t look away from his teeth. He’d slunk forward, belly to the ground, until he could nose at Louis’ palm, whining all the while. When Louis’ hand moved too quickly, Niall hadn’t snarled or bitten, just rolled belly-up, waiting, eyes rolling nervously when Louis patted his stomach, scratched gently at the scruff of his neck.

Louis'd let out a long breath, sinking to the floor beside Niall, and they'd sat like that for hours, Niall’s head rested on Louis’ thigh, gnawing gently at Louis’ proffered fingers.

“You’re not so bad, are you, pup?” Louis’d asked, half-asleep while Niall licked and licked his hands, a nervous compulsion that barely made sense even to himself.

They never told anyone else. They’d come out the hotel room the next day to the other boys and their team gathered, waiting, white-faced and grim.

The unspoken question had been so heavy, oppressive in the air, especially to Niall’s overworked senses- _what was it like?_

Louis had returned their grim expressions, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “He was vicious. Nearly pissed myself. Could’ve died.”

The others had turned their faces away, worst fears confirmed, but Louis’ fingers had snuck down Niall’s arm, brushed his fingertips over Niall’s wrist, inviting him in on the joke.

“Yeah, you should go look at the bathroom door. Nearly tore it down while I was out,” Niall added, watching Louis’ face from the corner of his eye for a sign of approval. Everyone'd rushed past into the room to inspect the damage while Louis and Niall hung back.

“How long you think we can keep up you’re a ravenous beast?” Louis asked softly, voice conspiratorially tucked under the shocked gasps from inside the room.

Niall hadn’t known how to tell him- _Think I might’ve killed anyone but you_. So he hadn’t, just laughed, butting his head against Louis’ shoulder then sagging against him, exhausted.

That was three years ago. Louis’ still the only one to ever open the door.

* * *

It's not like Niall can ever _really_ forget what stage the moon is in. He doesn't need the three separate lunar calendar apps on his phone, definitely doesn't need the daily text alerts about if it's waxing or waning, blood or corn or wolf. Doesn't need Paddy to keep a tiny moon chart in his pocket.

Sometimes it gets to him more than he'd like.

Even though the show was incredible and they've got iHeart Radio coming up fast, he can't settle in his skin. The thin metal shell of the tour bus feels too flimsy to keep the ever-swelling moon at bay, and Niall can't stop staring out the window, watching the bright silver disc through the rapidly changing treeline until his eyes water. He should be asleep, truly, but that doesn't feel like an option when there might as well be magnets under his skin, drawing him out into the moonlight. It's such a fucking cliche, and he can't even laugh about it.

On the up-side, it's mostly quiet on the bus- just the monotonous wheels hissing below him, the driver's radio playing in the front, soft sleep sounds drifting up from Liam and Louis in their bunks. Niall presses his forehead against the cool window, watches the shadowy scenery fly by, prepares to wait out the worst of it.

* * *

 He knows Louis' awake before he really processes the knowledge. The whinier snoring from the back of the bus had cut out and been replaced with softly approaching footsteps. Niall looks up just in time to see Louis gently push open the curtain that separates the bunks from the lounge, and then they're blinking at each other blearily, equally exhausted and unsurprised to find the other awake.

"Go to bed, Lou."

Louis' always been a light sleeper. He hates missing out on things, always has to be the last one to bed, always up at the first sign that something interesting might happen. He drags a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair, glaring at Niall with all the force he can muster while standing half-unconscious at whatever ungodly hour.

"Don't tell me what to do," he mumbles irritably, letting the curtain slide shut as he slouches to the kitchenette counter, going straight for the electric kettle. The whole scene is so predictable that Niall feels himself calm a bit, corner of his mouth tugging up despite how blood-bone-tired he is.

Louis drags two mugs out of the cabinet, going on tip-toe to get them, and it's fascinating watching him make tea on autopilot, scrabbling around blindly until his hands come across what they're after. When the kettle's filled and turned on to warm, he finally turns to face Niall, crossing his arms over his chest like he's getting ready to lecture. He doesn't, though, just leans against the counter and sleepily observes Niall. Niall feels pulled between returning Louis' stare and staring out the window, has to compromise by looking back and forth every few minutes.

When the kettle's done and the bags are in, Louis shuffles to the little booth, settles on the bench across from Niall and knocks their ankles together. He pushes one mug to Niall and wraps his hands around the other, even though Niall _knows_ it's too hot to handle just yet.

"Couldn't sleep?" Louis' eyes are on his tea, but the question is for Niall.

Niall grimaces, glancing back at the moon- _a waxing gibbous_ , he thinks distastefully- and then at Louis, who seems to be flirting with the idea of sticking his entire face in the near-boiling tea in front of him. "No, not tonight, I think."

Louis just nods, sinks lower in the booth until his chin's resting on the table and he has to give what looks like a very great effort to open his eyelids enough to peer up at Niall. "Thought so. You always get like this when it's-"

"I know," Niall cuts him off quickly, not wanting to hear any of the words right now. Change, wolf, moon, moon, _moon_. It comes out snappier than he means, but Louis doesn't seem bothered. He's tracing the tip of one finger just over the surface of his tea, barely skimming the burning heat of it; he's always been a pusher. 

"Drink your tea," Louis says, and Niall raises the mug to his mouth without thinking. " _Stop._ " Louis' quick with the negation, sitting up straighter and watching, hawklike, as the mug pauses just a hair's breadth from Niall's lips. "You would've burned yourself, idiot."

Niall's brain feels slow, like everything that just happened was way out of his realm of understanding. "I didn't- _you said_ to drink it!" he hisses, not wanting to wake Liam up but frustrated all the same.

Louis laughs, and there's a nervous undertone to it. "You don't have to do everything I say."

And that's- that's true, except sometimes how it isn't. Niall isn't sure how to explain it, but he fumbles for it- "It's- I _want_ to." Which isn't exactly right, because he _doesn't_ want to drink scalding tea just because Louis' said it on a whim. "When you say things like- in that way you have, I just-" His mind flashes back to his hazy wolf-brain, that first time, Louis standing in the doorway, throat easy and open and exposed, the way he'd been all teeth. "I like it," Niall says dumbly, because he can't think of another way to say it.

"When I tell you what to do?" Louis asks carefully, edging his fingertip into the still-steaming mug, testing the waters.

"Just- your voice, I think?" _You._ Christ. "It's- it feels like a- a-"

The tea is apparently satisfactory because Louis fishes the bag out with his fingers and drops it with a tiny wet _splat_ on the table. He takes a long sip, eyes closed, fingers wrapped daintily around the handle. When he looks at Niall again, there's a faint tea mustache clinging to his upper lip. "A werewolf thing," he supplies, confident somehow in his ability to say what Niall can't quite get at.

Niall lets out a long breath, takes a careful sip of his own tea- still far too hot; Louis' a fucking monster- and nods. "I think so. It feels like that anyway- mindless, like that."

Louis nods thoughtfully, downing the rest of his tea in a few slow gulps. Niall pushes his mug over as well, not really in the mood for creature comforts.

"What if," Louis says, careful, careful, careful, folding his fingers delicately around Niall's mug, "what if I told you to go to sleep? Would that work?"

Niall blinks, mouth opening and then hanging, because he isn't sure, really. "You could try?" he offers, frowning slightly. "I mean- I don't know. I don't know how it works, but we can-"

"Come on," Louis says, standing from the table and leaving Niall to dump their mugs in the sink before following him back to the bunks. He stands back while Louis crawls into bed, then stands there a bit awkwardly, waiting on something to happen.

"Well?" Louis prompts, quiet so as not to wake Liam. "Get in." Niall moves to get in his own bunk, the one below Louis', but Louis _tsks_ , and the noise strikes Niall as familiar- something people do when their dogs are misbehaving. His face goes hot. "Not there," Louis hisses, pulling back his own blankets and gesturing Niall in. "Here, come on."

Niall climbs in, settling beside Louis and turning on his side so they can look at each other. "Now what?" he asks, half-smiling because this feels ridiculous.

Louis' cheeks darken a shade, and he clears his throat self-consciously, scowling somewhere over Niall's shoulder. "Now you go the fuck to sleep," he says gruffly, but it's not really a command. He's too unsure, heartbeat thudding so heavy Niall can hear it. "Did that work?" he asks after a moment, when Niall hasn't said anything.

"Nah," Niall says apologetically, scooching closer to Louis and burying his face against his chest. "Try again."

Louis snorts, fingers carding absently through the hair at the nape of Niall's neck. "You're being difficult."

"Fuck off, you just didn't do it right." It's nice, though, the two of them in the small, dark space of the bunk. It's like a cave, Niall thinks, a cave where it's just him and Louis and it doesn't matter if he feels more wolf than person, like his skin doesn't fit right. And the smell of it, Christ-

He's always somewhat aware that Louis isn't the cleanest person. He never picks up after himself, he skips showers, he wouldn't even do his own laundry under penalty of death. But fuck if Niall's ever been able to care; it's actually _better_ that way, the condensed scent of it, Louis' body and sweat and wherever he's been, whatever he's done. Niall'd spent half the X Factor with his face pressed in the clothes Louis left scattered on the floor, hadn't been able to help it after the bungalow, had started associating Louis' smell with acceptance and maybe something else.

"Um." He's startled out of his revelry by Louis' uncertain noise, blinks his eyes open to only to realize he's been nosing at Louis' armpit, face half-buried in the damp heat there. Niall feels his face go hot, but he doesn't move, not particularly keen on meeting Louis' eye at the moment.

"I mean," Louis murmurs, sounding amused, "don't let me stop you or anything." He raises his arm and tucks his hand behind his head, leaving his body open, and Niall hesitates for the barest second before edging closer, tucking his face between Louis' flank and the mattress. When he's settled, Louis drops his arm again, wrapping it loosely around Niall's back. "Sleep, pup," he says, sleepy and calm himself, and Niall doesn't know if it works or not- if it's the command, or how he can never feel too out of his skin when he's wrapped up in the scent of Louis. Either way, he's asleep before he has time to dwell on it.

* * *

He wakes up pressed close to Louis, sweating and sticky in the heat of the shared bunk. Louis' still snoring softly, but he starts awake the moment Niall tries to move.

"Morning," he mumbles, groggy, and then his eyes pop wide and he's grinning, a blur of motion as he wrestles Niall onto his back, nearly knocking himself out against the low bunk ceiling in the process. "It worked!" he cackles, digging his fingers into Niall's ribs until Niall's breathless, gasping and laughing, teary-eyed and too weak to fight back. "I'm a genius, Niall, admit it! Tell me how great I am, come on-"

The bunk curtain opens abruptly, revealing Liam gnawing on some sort of awful-looking protein bar. He looks happy, eyes squinted shut, smiling big enough to show the protein bits stuck in his teeth. "Morning!" he says brightly, not at all bothered, apparently, by the way Louis' straddling Niall's narrow hips, hands dug up under Niall's rucked-up shirt. "Venue in an hour, Harry and Zayn want to get breakfast if you're up for it."

They both look at Niall, waiting, and the good feeling drains out of him so quickly it leaves a cold emptiness in his wake. They'd never give him this deference if the full moon weren't looming so close, they'd never have to ask, just drag him out the bunk and wherever like they always do. He frowns, shrugs, not wanting to put up a fuss, but more than that not wanting to say that he _doesn't_ actually feel like going to breakfast and being around a ton of people. He doesn't want to feed into the loop of how they treat him even though it's true sometimes, even though they mean so well.

Louis drops out of the bunk, knees buckling a bit when he hits the ground, and then he's digging through his clothes, stripping and changing. Liam's still watching Niall, concern written on his face, because he's never as oblivious as people like to think.

"Alright?" he asks, soft enough that Louis doesn't hear where he's flounced to the bathroom to brush his teeth and piss.

Niall sits up, skin feeling tender and bruised now that he isn't being distracted by Louis' hands on him. "I'm good," he says, aiming for earnest, throwing in a grin that he can tell falls short because it just makes Liam's eyebrows migrate together. "Liam, I swear, I'm just tired. You know how I get."

"Alright," Liam says easily, breaking off the unslobbered-on half of his protein bar and holding it out to Niall. "It'll keep your energy up," he says, and Niall's heart feels warm and big in his chest despite everything else.

He takes it, tears off a chunk with his teeth, and mumbles, "Thanks, Leem." Liam beams at him, then goes to the front of the bus, leaving Niall to get dressed in peace.

* * *

Group breakfast with the crew is just as much of a disaster as ever. Everything's loud and hectic, too much food and too little time, too many people, not enough chairs. It's usually fun, and Niall loves getting to catch up with everyone. This morning he just feels worn out, like the few hours of sleep he'd grabbed in Louis' bunk had been more trouble than they were worth.

Speaking of Louis, he's watching Niall like a hawk, never more than a few feet away. When Niall's finished trying to force down some dry toast and bacon, Louis finally comes over, leaning over Niall's shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"Tonight or tomorrow, right?" he asks, and Niall hates that, being reminded. Not that he can forget, but god, it'd be nice to pretend, sometimes. And that's the problem with this time of the month, how he's never quite himself. Usually he'd be euphoric about Louis hanging all over him, pulling him to the side, into his bunk, making him tea, doing anything for him. Right now it just makes him itchy and pissy, frustrated.

"You know it is," he snaps, shaking Louis off his shoulders.

Louis looks surprised, taking a step back and considering Niall with his eyebrows raised high. "Alright," he says slowly, like he isn't sure how to proceed. Louis isn't unsure very often, doesn't show it at least, and it's a weird look on him. "I was thinking we could stay in the bus together since it's my turn to watch you? Or hotel if you want. We can watch movies and order pizza or something, get someone to bring us loads of beer. Just in case it comes early like last time-"

"Whatever," Niall says, standing abruptly, unable to talk about it another second. "Sounds great," he amends when Louis' face falls for a fraction of a second. He heads back to the bus before he has a chance to fuck anything else up, snap at anyone who doesn't bounce back like Louis.

* * *

The thing is, he's twenty-one in America, and he doesn’t want to be a werewolf for once in his life. He wants to drink a lot and dance a little and not worry about what people might gather from watching his every move.

And they’re in Vegas, so he gives it a shot. A lot of shots, actually.

It’s good for so long- so good, riding a performance high, and then there’s Lottie, who smells like Louis but less, and she’s funny and makes Niall achy because she isn’t actually Louis. If she was actually Louis, she’d be chewing Niall out for being pissed in a club while the moon rises fat and nearly full outside.

It can’t go on forever.

There’s the crowd, a barrage of people, bodies touching Niall on every side, and it’s overkill with the way his skin’s crawling wolfhot to start with. People are breathing on his neck, screeching and touching and pulling and dragging, and his teeth feel too big for his mouth, gums swollen and tender, and christ, he just needs to get _away_.

He can’t though- can’t get out from under the crushing mass, can’t even breathe through the fucking heat and closeness of it all. His eyes are wet and he’s as powerless to stop that as he is the gasping, useless gulping of his slacked-tight jaw. It’s like his heart is expanding in his chest, adrenaline overshooting fight-or-flight and landing square on blind useless panic. But he’s always been like that. This was always going to happen.

“Back the fuck off!”

Niall hears it through a fog, too little oxygen in his brain to really process the who or how of it, but there’s a voice getting closer and closer, familiar and shrill and pissed, and Niall’s body would be going belly-up, soft, if he could move at all.

There’s an arm wrapping tight around his middle, someone’s chest pressed to his back, and something about the fierceness of it, the protective back-to-the-wall snarling hunch of it all, makes the other hands and arms and bodies fall away.

“Yeah, keep fuckin’ walking!” And then softer, closer, in Niall’s ear, “Alright, Nialler? Fucking idiot.”

There’s enough space that Niall can breathe, Louis’ arm an anchor around his chest that keeps him from overdoing it and ending up on the pavement. He can vaguely hear other familiar voices- bodyguards, thank god- pushing people back.

Louis doesn’t say anything else, besides one command for someone to find Lottie and Gemma, make sure they get back safe- he keeps a deathgrip around Niall’s middle, one hand tightly gripping the scruff of his neck, walking him forward to the waiting car and rolling both of them into the backseat, the door slamming shut behind them courtesy of a very harassed security guard.

It’s about a thousand times quieter in the car, like a vacuum sucked all the sound out and left nothing but Louis’ quick, shallow breaths ghosting over Niall’s ear. He hasn’t let go, even now that they’re safely curled together in the backseat. His forehead is pressed to Niall’s temple and his eyes are squeezed shut, and Niall’s nerves are so keyed up that he swears he can feel each of Louis’ individual eyelashes where they barely brush Niall’s cheek.

The car lurches into motion, and breathing gets easier and easier. Louis’ chest is hot against Niall’s back, but it’s steadying, Louis’ evening breaths giving Niall something to match.

“Sorry,” Niall says, once his tongue’s started to feel less sticky-dry. “Christ, I’m sorry.” It feels like he’ll never be able to say it enough, never stop feeling the phantom weight of the crowd crushing him.

Louis breathes out a long sigh, warm against Niall’s jaw. “You scared us all half to fucking death,” he says, voice sharp, prickling up Niall’s spine. It makes Niall’s skin crawl, warm then hot, in a completely different way from the spiky anxiety of earlier. He shifts a bit, turning onto his back as gently as he can, belly-up as always while Louis just watches, face unreadable.

“Sorry.” It comes out as barely a breath, doesn’t even have enough force to shift the shaggy hair hanging over Louis’ forehead.

Louis shifts away, sitting up and letting Niall go, leaving him sprawled across the seat. “Warn us next time you decide to go on a fucking bender,” he says, terse, tense. He’s never been good at being scared, always has to turn it into something else.

Niall doesn’t say sorry again, doesn’t sit up either. He lays in the back seat, feet tucked up behind Louis’ tight-muscled back, and just lets himself feel it for a moment- the loosening of the tension around his lungs, the easy beat of his heart, the way Louis’ hand is still lightly gripping his bum knee even though he won’t even look in Niall’s direction.

It’s not so bad, he thinks. If this is what it takes- to forget about everything for a bit- it’s not so bad, to be crushed and then hauled out of forgetting by Louis’ hand firmly gripping the back of neck.

The car pulls to a stop at the back entrance of their hotel, and it’s disorientingly quiet when they step out of the backseat- different to the manufactured silence of the car, a late-night, early-morning calm that makes Niall feel tired immediately, like a kid out past his bedtime.

“You fine walking up to your room on your own?” Louis asks, voice low and gentler than it’d been in the car. He lulls his head toward the buses parked at the back of the lot. “Don’t think I’m up for a hotel room tonight.” The moon's clear in the sky, and Niall's still human, so there's no real reason for Louis to stay with him tonight. Still-

There’s a lot Niall wants to say, standing in the watery gray predawn with Louis blinking softly at him, expectant. Stupid things- _I did it to get your attention, I’m not really all that sorry._ Stupider things- _I’ve been in love with you since I was 17, and I’ve never known how to handle it._ The unthinkable- _Ask me to come with you._

He settles on something easier, equally true, ducking his head low and wrapping himself around Louis. “Thanks for finding me,” he says, barely audible against the skin of Louis’ neck. “Thank you for everything.” And it’s probably just the nearness of his recent panic attack, but his eyes feel humiliatingly, unstoppably wet as he says it, clinging to Louis in a parking lot in Vegas while Louis stands frozen, hands not quite resting on Niall’s back. It doesn’t even feel like Louis is breathing, and Niall can’t hide the way his own breath is hitching desperately in his chest.

“You’re not okay, are you, pup?” The question feels like an electric shock, and Niall chokes on something between a startled laugh and a sob.

“Christ, no,” he gasps, burying his face in the crook of Louis’ shoulder. “I’m a fucking mess.” Saying it is strange and good, better when Louis’ arms wrap around him, pleasantly warm against the cool night air.

Louis pulls away only to sling an arm around Niall’s shoulders, guiding him along while Niall leaves his face half-hidden. “Come on, then,” Louis coaxes, like Niall hasn’t already decided to follow him absolutely anywhere. “Let’s get you sorted.”

The security by Bus 1 waves them through, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let them climb the steps. Louis trails behind with a steadying hand low on Niall’s back. The lounge is empty, strewn with clothes and cans and snack wrappers, but it feels homey, smells familiar in a way that helps Niall settle. Louis slumps onto the sofa, pulling Niall down beside him. He flicks on the TV, pulls up Netflix and then tosses the remote to Niall, leans back on the couch and closes his eyes while Niall sifts through movies and shows until he lands on a documentary about seals and figures what the hell.

When the intro starts, Louis cracks open one eye to squint at the screen and then snorts. "Fascinating."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going out," Niall says abruptly, turning the tv volume down and facing Louis on the couch. "I should have told you."

"You shouldn't have gone out-" Louis starts, scowling, but Niall cuts him off.

"Listen- I'm tired of- having to hole up every month, like a secret. I'm tired of being fucking weird and having everyone tiptoe around me-"

"I don't-"

"You do," Niall says grimly. "Not the same way other people do, not as much, but you do. And sometimes it's nice- I love you paying attention to me, I have since I was just a stupid kid at the bungalow-" Louis starts, cheeks going red, and yeah, they've never really talked about that. Maybe they should have. "But I feel like I'm suffocating sometimes, like I'm dragging everyone down because I'm- you know. Fucked up."

Louis' nose scrunches and he scowls again, shifting restlessly on the couch. "I don't know why you think it has to be some big fucking secret," he snaps, arms crossed over his chest. "And sorry if I piss you off every single month; I'll stop nagging you since it bothers you so fucking much."

Which isn't at all what Niall said, which is why he hates fighting with Louis and avoids it whenever possible. He's more stuck, though, on the first bit of what Louis said. "I can't- telling people isn't- we signed a contract," he says, because it's true. They'd had to tell Simon, had to tell the high-ups at the record label so shows could be scheduled around the lunar cycle.

"That was four years ago." Louis' still irritated, picking at a hole in his joggers, "back when no one thought we'd amount to shit, when the smallest thing could've written us off for good. Now one of us could go off the fucking deep end- come out on stage butt-fucking naked, sprinkling bags of crystal meth into the audience, and the team would find a way to spin it in our favor. You can do whatever you need to do."

Niall pauses, thinking about it- not that it's new, not that he hasn't thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it, especially lately. He settles on saying, "You really do watch too much _Breaking Bad_."

It surprises Louis and he laughs, then frowns at himself like he's disappointed by his own betrayal, determined to be in a bad mood. "If you feel trapped here," Louis says, serious in a way he rarely is, meeting Niall's eyes and holding him there, "something needs to change. You can't just grin and bear it for the rest of us. It doesn't work that way. We're your family-" He stops, laughs again, mouth twisting. "Your _pack._ " ( _"Ugh, Lou-"_ ) "You do whatever you need to do, and we'll be right beside you." As if on cue, Louis' phone pings and buzzes with an influx of texts. He thumbs it open, reads over them, then turns it to Niall, face grim but pointed.

_z: u find him??_

_li: hes not n hotel_

_h: not on bus 2, called gemma, said he went to club??_

_z: called paul and paddy, they're on their way_

_li: me and sophia headed there now_

_l: dont, ive got it, ull just draw more attention_

And then, most recently:

_h: is he back? saw somethig abt crowd getting him on twitter_

_z: ?? louis answer ur fuckn phone_

_li: paddy says ur both back, let us know pls_

_h: worried_

Before Niall's even done reading, there's a pounding on the bus door, and then it's wrenched open and the three of them are flooding in, looking wild and sick with nerves. They spot Niall right away, and then he's being crushed under Harry's weight, under all of them.

"Idiot," Zayn mutters in his ear, face pressed into Niall's neck, but it's fond and relieved. When Niall manages to look past the tangle of bodies around him, he catches sight of Louis, still perched on the end of the couch, knees to his chest, watching. He looks tired, Niall realizes, exhausted.

"I'm alright," Niall says, to the boys and to Louis. "I'm really alright, I promise."

They move back a bit to let him breathe, and he forgets, sometimes, how it feels to be just the five of them, how there's nothing else quite like it.

"Hopefully that'll never happen again," Liam says, frowning down at his phone. "I gave a very strongly worded speech on Twitter."

There's a pause, and then everyone groans at once.

"Liam, _no_ ," Zayn says, exasperated, dropping his head into his hands. Harry's grimacing, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up Twitter to check; his face only gets more grave, and Niall has to bite his tongue so he won't laugh.

"Oh, _good one,_ Liam," Louis cackles, looking down at his own phone. "Christ, you're incredible, you know?"

Liam blushes and beams, scratching at the back his neck self-consciously. "I just think people should respect Niall's personal space."

"Thanks," Niall says, grinning up at him, and it's nice, even though Liam's probably started some sort of Twitter apocalypse. Again.

"Tomorrow's our day off," Louis says suddenly, looking at his phone like he doesn't mean anything by it.

"Yeah?" Harry's settled onto the couch beside Niall, half in his lap. "And?"

"I think-" Louis' eyes dart to Niall, questioning. Niall gulps but nods, the smallest movement. "I think you should all hang around for a bit- tomorrow night. Just an hour or so."

Everyone frowns a bit, not like they hate the idea but like they're confused by it.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks, turning to Niall, concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Niall says automatically, but Louis snorts. "Not really," he amends. "Just- I think I want to- tell people? I think I want to tell people. And I think you all need to see what we're dealing with before I do that."

It's absolutely silent for a beat, and then everyone seems to exhale a sigh of relief all at once.

"That's a big step," Zayn says softly, carefully examining Niall's face. "Are you sure?"

Niall thinks about it, really, really thinks about it. Not about Louis, or the boys, or the fans, but himself- how it would feel to have the weight of it off his shoulders. "Yeah. I- I really want to." He glances over at Louis, heart skipping when their eyes meet, Louis pressing a soft smile into the crook of his own elbow.

"That's settled then," Harry says, shrugging. "We'll talk to Simon. Or whoever. Lawyers. Someone. I don't know." He trails off, looking as if he's confused himself.

"Go to bed, Harry," Louis says, rolling his eyes.

Harry and Zayn leave, heading back to the hotel, but Liam stays for a moment, and Niall's stomach flips nervously.

"You don't have to come tomorrow night; I know Sophia's only in town a few days-"

Liam cuts him off. "It's not that at all, I'm going to be there- Sophia and I will just go out after- I just- I hope I never made you feel weird about telling people. I thought you didn't want them to know. I'm sorry, if it ever came across as me being like- ashamed or scared or anything-"

Niall's eyes feel suspiciously wet again, but he just hauls himself up off the couch to wrap Liam in a tight hug. "Don't be an idiot," he says, laughing a bit. "God, you're great, Liam, you really are."

Liam's red when they break apart, and he leaves the bus looking pleased with himself. Then it's just Niall and Louis, exhausted after too many emotions in one night.

"I'm going to sleep for fucking ever," Louis sighs, dropping his head against the back of the couch and letting his eyes drift shut. "I'm never getting off this couch. I'm going to hibernate on this couch."

"Come on," Niall mumbles, pulling Louis up and bearing his weight back to the bunks, "you'll be a dick in the morning if you wake up on the couch. _My poor neck, my aching back, why'd you let me sleep like that Niall_?" he mimics Louis' high voice, dodging the weak slaps Louis tosses at him.

"You know me best, Horan." Louis crawls into Niall's bunk, apparently too tired to climb up into his own. "C'm'ere," he murmurs, eyes heavy-lidded as he pats the sheets, beckoning Niall in beside him. Niall strips off his jeans and shirt, settles gratefully on the soft mattress. Louis presses close, wrapping his arms around Niall's middle and sprawling half on top of him. "Sorry," he says after a while, so long that Niall'd thought he was asleep.

"What for?" There's actually a lot Louis could be apologizing for, since he doesn't, ever.

He doesn't answer, just buries his face against Niall's chest, scrubbing back and forth so his stubble makes Niall's skin prickle. "Smothering you," he says finally. "Bossing you around."

"Don't be stupid." Niall yawns, bones aching. "Love you."

Louis snorts, breath hot against Niall's breastbone. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

Changing has gotten easier as Niall's gotten used to it. It's easier with Louis in the room, too, the familiar scent of him combating the unsettling clinical hotel smell. Niall's bones break and shift, reset, and he screams and screams until he's howling. Louis turns the tv up higher, though it'll never really mask the sound. Niall's panting, feels his teeth stretching his gums til they tear, tongue swelling and lolling from his mouth.

It's over as quick as it starts, and Niall's gotten better at thinking this way as well. Words don't come to him, but feelings do, echoes of human memories. Like the pleased feeling he gets when he sees Louis crouching a few feet away, squatting with his elbows on his knees as he watches Niall carefully.

"There you are," he says softly, extending a hand palm-up. It's a familiar gesture by now and Niall lopes towards him, circling once before coming in close, allowing Louis' hand to rest on his head, bury in the maneish fur around his neck. He breathes in, scents the room, and freezes, because it's not just Louis. His hackles rise of their own accord, teeth baring in a snarl as his head turns, seeking out the unfamiliar scents.

Three shapes- three people, but they're sort of familiar as well. Louis' hand has tightened on the scruff of his neck, pinching until Niall's pliant, puppy-soft and weak.

"Down," Louis says, harsh and heavy, a simple command that breaks through the wolfhaze and has Niall settling to the floor at his feet.

Harry, Zayn, and Liam are standing with their backs to the wall, eyes wide as they watch Niall settle on the ground. He looks back at them curiously, settled by the feel of Louis' hand on his neck.

"Well?" Louis prompts, speaking to them now. "Don't be fucking babies, come on."

Zayn's the first one to step forward, drops to his knees and inches across the floor until he's face to face with Niall, one hand extended cautiously. Niall allows it, likes the smell of him, not something he's used to in his wolfbody, but something of it echoes, familiar all the same. Zayn's fingers brush against his ear, rest next to Louis' on his neck.

"Hi," Zayn breathes unsteadily, laughing like he can't believe it when Niall sniffs at him, allows him to scratch around behind his ears.

Harry and Liam inch forward next, following Zayn's lead and crawling until they're all gathered in front of him, hands in his fur, and there's so much feeling and smell and sense that Niall gets a bit overloaded, drops his head to the ground and lets them do what they want, not worried about their intentions.

"He's not- this isn't like what you said at all," Liam hisses at Louis.

Louis' face turns red and he looks away, somewhere over Liam's shoulder. "It wasn't always this easy. He's gotten better at handling it."

"He's lovely," Harry mumbles, dropping onto his belly and pressing his face into Niall's side, breathing in so it tickles.

"He is," Louis agrees. "And he's so good at- being this, you know? He's still Niall." Niall's head lifts automatically, blinking up at Louis, who laughs. "You're still Niall," he amends, talking directly to Niall now. Niall settles again, huffing out a pleased breath when Harry drapes over his back, heavy and warm.

* * *

Niall comes to in the early hours of the morning, sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. He's sprawled naked on the floor, face resting on Louis' thigh, dried drool sticking their skin together.

Louis' already awake, hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, humming softly. He looks down at Niall when he feels him shift, grinning softly.

"Morning, pup," he says, voice raspy from sleep. Niall shifts around, testing his sore joints and groaning when they protest. "You look like hell," Louis says happily, stretching, catlike, so his back pops in several places. The noises echo too-loud in Niall's head and he whines, scrunching his face up and rolling away from Louis until he's face-down on the carpet.

"Christ, feel like I was hit by a truck," he says, pushing his hands through his hair. "How'd it go last night with the others? I can't really-" He remembers in bits and pieces. Doesn't remember biting anyone but-

"You did so well," Louis murmurs, lips somehow right at Niall's ear, and then his weight drops onto Niall's back, pressing him to the carpet. "They were so scared of you, mutt, but you did so well. Didn't bite anyone. Zayn's probably going to get a tattoo of you on his leg or something, he thought you were so fucking cool."

Niall's face burns and he smiles against the carpet. "Fuck off."

"Really," Louis goes on, pressing his face into the crook of Niall's neck, nosing against his nape. "You were like a puppy. You were so sweet for them. Like a little kitten, honestly."

Niall shivers, breath coming faster at the feeling of Louis mouthing against the sensitive skin of his neck. "Good," Niall gasps, dropping his forehead to the carpet so Louis has more room to do- whatever he's doing.

"You're incredible, you know?" Louis goes on, biting at Niall's shoulder, laughing at himself. "Everyone's going to go crazy over you when they find out. Gonna want to see you go wolf, scream about that the same way they scream about you playing guitar-"

"How're they gonna see that? Can't go out- when I'm like that," Niall says, brain moving slow, too caught up in Louis' mouth and hands, the heat of his body. "Even if people know, it's not- it's not safe, not like you and the boys-"

"I'll put a muzzle on you," Louis says airily. "Lead you around on a leash," he adds, one hand gently cupping Niall's throat, the barest suggestion of a collar. Niall groans, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his hips a bit to press back against Louis. "Christ," Louis swears softly, dropping his face between Niall's shoulder blades and breathing heavily. "You don't even know."

"Know what?" Niall's absolutely still, doesn't want to break whatever he feels building.

"Just- you. How people feel about you."

"People?"

"Fine," Louis laughs. He makes a face, ridiculous. "How _I_ feel about you. God, I jerked you off once four fucking years ago and I've never stopped thinking about it. Think about your fucking knot every time I come, I swear-"

Niall shakes, full-body shivers, and Louis pulls away from him, which is not what he wants to happen, exactly. He rolls onto his back, blinking up at Louis heavy-lidded, can't even take a full breath from how much he wants him. Louis' cheeks are red and he looks nervous, shifty as he kneels, hands twitching at his sides.

"Why'd you never say?" Niall asks, sitting up so they're face to face. "I didn't think you'd-"

"It's not just that," Louis says quickly. "The knot thing. It's you, you know? The knot's just-"

"Stop talking about my knot," laughs Niall, breathless, "God, I can't think about you and my knot together, or I'll-"

"What?" Louis asks sharply, eyes sparking with something. He stands just long enough to fall back on the hotel bed, legs spread invitingly.

"Anything." Niall doesn't mean to say it, but he does mean it. "Anything you want." He stands shakily, dick already hard and bobbing a bit when he stumbles towards the bed. His hands feel big and stupid at his sides, useless, but he's been thinking about Louis for four years, Louis' hands and mouth, smell, everything.

"So if I asked you," Louis says slowly, rolling his hips a tiny bit against the sheets, feline twist of his spine, purposeful, "to knot me, you'd do it?"

Niall's mouth is so dry. It's like a desert- a desert where all there is is Louis saying _knot me_ , and Niall breathing open-mouthed like a dog. He nods, can't even close his mouth or move his tongue enough to answer properly.

Louis looks sort of surprised, like he wasn't expecting Niall to agree. He sits up a bit, clearing his throat nervously. "Okay, then. This isn't like- you want to, right? This isn't like when I tell you to sit or whatever...?" He lets it trail off, uncertain, and Niall shakes himself out of his stupor.

"No, it's not- it's not like that. At all. I want to. I don't know- how it will work? I don't want to hurt you, and I've never-"

"I'll be fine," Louis says, smirking slightly, sly tilt to his lips that makes Niall cup his dick protectively, just in case.

"And you know that because...?" Niall prompts, not really trusting Louis to remember exactly the size of his knot- especially since it's bigger now that he's presented, now that he's four years older. _Not a pup anymore_. "You been fucking lots of werewolves behind my back?" He laughs a little at the idea, doesn't know any werewolves outside his own family. Gets a brief flash of Louis and Greg and has to scrunch his face up against the mental image.

"Been practicin'," Louis mumbles, raising a fist in the air and tilting his head towards it, waggling his eyebrows like a cartoon villain. It's such a strange mix of absolutely ridiculous and hot that Niall doesn't know what to do with it, drops his face into his hands and guffaws so loud it sets Louis off, too, so they're both useless, laughing til they're sagging against the bed, breathless.

Niall's got about a thousand questions, mostly _when_ and _how_ because he can't imagine Louis having time for that, getting away with it without someone walking in on him, wondering what all the rustling about was- he thinks back a bit frantically, going over every noise he can remember coming from Louis' bunk, tries to place something that could sound like Louis wrist-deep in himself. Nothing really comes to mind. "You're bluffing," he says, still giggling, face buried in Louis' neck. "You're an absolute idiot, and you're bluffing. You'd never."

Louis huffs, offended, and pushes Niall off him, knees up the bed until he can flop back against the pillows, looking proper royal with the upturn of his chin, slight sneer, just enough to be dangerous. "Fuck off, I would, too. Go in my bag and grab lube out the bottom."

"Say please," Niall says automatically, even though he's already sliding to the floor and digging through Louis' things.

"How 'bout ' _fetch, mutt_ '?" It's nearly mean, but somehow it isn't. Weird how Louis does that sometimes. When Niall turns back to the bed, Louis' naked, stretched across the sheets like he owns the whole bed, the hotel, the city. He snorts when Niall's jaw drops, but it's not unkind. Self-deprecating, maybe, that _nothing to look at_ flush creeping across his chest, up his neck, his face going that tiny bit defiant. "Don't just stand there," he snaps, hands twitching up to cover his stomach. He's fidgety, brushing his hair from his face, toes digging into the duvet.

Niall spares him the discomfort of being stared at any longer, crawls up onto the bed and drops the bottle of lube on Louis' stomach, careful not to be too obvious about the way he can't tear his eyes away from Louis' body. 

"Good boy," Louis says, voice braver than the way his hands are shaking. Niall grins, dropping onto the bed beside Louis and pressing his face into Louis' ribs. He lets his eyes close, listens to the sound of Louis' forced-steady breathing, the _pop_ of the bottle cap, the slightly comical gross sound of lube being squirted into Louis' palm. He can't really think about what's happening, brain going mushy at the _four years_ of it all. He focuses on the present, soft skin of Louis' flank brushing his cheek every time he breathes, Louis' heartbeat hummingbird fast in his ears, Louis' scent so strong he wants to wallow in it. He hears it when Louis' fingers slip between his legs, the slick sound of his skin slipping, catching, the soft gasp he tries to muffle when his finger slips inside.

And Niall's sort of familiar with this part actually, the sounds at least- unavoidable after sharing tour buses for years. He's never gotten to watch before though, so he takes a deep breath and sits up, kneeling beside Louis and letting his eyes roam everywhere, Louis' face and chest and the sprawl of his legs, his mostly-soft dick cradled against his hip, his hand between his thighs. His eyelashes flutter a bit when he hears Niall move, eyes popping open and looking a bit glassy when they seek him out.

"I- can I do anything?" Niall asks, drifting but okay with it.

Louis sighs, barely a breath of sound, and lets his eyes fall shut again, brows knitting in concentration when he presses another finger inside. "Suck my dick, if you want," he says, casual like he doesn't care either way, but Niall doesn't miss the way he's careful not to make it a command. Niall's chest goes warm, heart skipping erratically, and he shuffles down the bed until he can palm at Louis' cock, playing around until it starts to fatten up. His mouth goes wet at the sight, and he has to fight the urge to wipe at the corners of his lips, tells himself it's not going to matter in a moment anyway when his whole jaw is slick with spit.

He drops a hand to Louis' stomach, lets it rest and revel in the feel of it tightening up when Niall first mouths over him. Louis' hips shift up automatically, barely even nudging the back of Niall's tongue before he has to pull away and cough into his elbow, laughing at himself.

"Sorry," he croaks, grinning at Louis who's blinking at him owlishly, looking a little put-out with his fingers still in his ass. "Got the gag reflex of a penguin, I swear."

"That's not a thing people say," Louis says, frowning. "No one has ever said that. That's not a real thing."

"I said it," Niall says, shrugging, and he drops back to Louis' dick before he can complain again. He holds him down this time, hands on Louis' hip as well as his stomach now so he can't do anything they'll both regret. It's a little awkward, Louis' wrist having to thread between Niall's hand and face to reach himself, and they keep knocking together, not quite in sync. It's not bad, though, nowhere near, which Niall supposes counts. Niall's thought about sucking Louis off a lot, thought about it back in the bungalow, just throwing out a casual offer- _hey, you did me, let me return the favor._ He could never quite get the courage up, though, not in the face of whatever strangely captivating charisma Louis' got. It feels simple, now, though, as if he could've always been doing this, pressing Louis down into hotel mattresses all across the world, drooling over his cock while he fingers himself-

Maybe not, though. Maybe they needed to work up to it.

"Jesus, stop-" Louis chokes out, and Niall pulls off quickly, sitting back on his haunches and looking up Louis' body at his face, twisted up with feeling. He laughs when he notices Niall's concern, shakes his head a little unsteadily. "Not gonna make it if you keep at the head like that," he says breathily, and Niall's eyes drop automatically to where Louis' fingers (four, Jesus) are working in and out of his hole, slow and slick and shiny, the lube uncapped and spilling on the sheets beside him.

Part of Niall wants to clean it up, but the larger part can't take his eyes off Louis' hand, the slow grind of Louis' hips against the bed like he can't stop himself. His cheeks are red and he's sweating, hair sticking to his forehead, sweat welling up on his chest and neck, curling and darkening the hair at his nape.

"Christ," Niall murmurs, can't stop himself, either, and Louis preens a little, mouth turning up at the corner.

"And now for my next trick," Louis says, grimacing when he pulls his fingers out with a noise that would be disgusting in any other context. He gets up on his knees, shaky, and Niall reaches out to steady him, inching closer so Louis can rest one hand on his shoulder for balance. The other disappears behind him, and his face screws up in what could be pain or pleasure, Niall's fucked if he can guess.

"Is that- how are you-?" he starts, wondering if distracting Louis will help or end up getting him sent to the emergency room in some really embarrassing fashion.

Louis shakes his head slightly, brow tight with concentration, and breathes, "C'mon, kiss me," so softly Niall nearly misses it, probably would've if his senses weren't in overdrive.  

It's easy as that, falling against Louis and slotting their mouths together like they never missed a beat in four years, like all that time was just a breath in-between. It's a little unreal, how familiar it is, the feel of Louis' teeth under his tongue, the hot-damp of his breath in Niall's mouth. The noises are new, though, half-formed whines and something that could be snarl in another life as Louis' shoulder and hips work, shift infinitesimal amounts that Niall can barely keep track of, even pressed as close as he is. 

He feels it when Louis' hand slips in, feels his body tense bowstring tight, jaw clenching shut so quickly he nearly bites off Niall's tongue. He hisses, dropping his face to Niall's shoulder and mouthing at the crook of his neck until his muscles all seem to relax at once and he sighs heavily, cool air tickling the wet patches he's left on Niall's skin.

"There," he says, voice faux-bright to hide the tremor in it. "Easy." He tries to lean away from Niall but gasps, catching himself on Niall's shoulder again and squeezing it tight, eyes flying shut while his mouth hangs open, panting. Niall's not really sure what to do, frozen by the way Louis' body is trembling, so he presses their foreheads together, gentle, keeping his breathing even until Louis matches it, relaxing again. 

"Easy, huh?" Niall teases, can't think of what else to do. He still can't quite believe Louis' done it, wouldn't believe it at all if it weren't for the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the sheen of sweat slicking up his body. He wants to feel it, see it, can't help but run a hand over Louis' hip, testing, around his side and down, following the line of Louis' forearm until his own fingers are snug against Louis' wrist, feeling where he's wrapped so tightly round himself it feels like his bones should be breaking. For one startling, unsettling second, Niall can't shake the mental image of a snake swallowing itself, the strange infinity-loop of Louis and himself, on and on and on. It hits him then, that Louis _has_ done this, knows what he's doing, can take it.

"Hush," Louis laughs, breathless. "Told you I could."

"You did," Niall admits, stunned enough to give Louis just about anything at the moment. "Can't believe you did it. Fucking incredible."

He doesn't miss how Louis turns his face away to hide how pleased he is. He also doesn't miss the way Louis' shoulder and bicep are moving again, the muscle and bone rolling, fascinating, beneath his skin. Niall's hand is still right there as well, feeling the stretch of Louis' rim as his wrist flexes, less in-and-out than just _writhing._ There's wet on Niall's hip where Louis' dick is dragging, twitching like he's about to come-

"Fuck," Louis murmurs, stilling and breathing heavily. "Fuck, alright," he says again, starting to pull his hand out, agonizingly slowly. Niall leaves his own where it is, feels the lube-slick skin of Louis' wrist and the heel of his palm, how easy it is after that, how his fingers slide out like nothing, tangle awkwardly with Niall's for a second, squeeze and let go so Niall's hand is tacky with slick as well. He kneads at Louis' ass for a moment, something he's thought about a billion times, before letting his fingers sneak down, touching gingerly at the place where his rim's swollen and sensitive, wet. "Don't," Louis says quickly, hips bucking a way. "I'll come, I swear, don't." He's laughing at himself, pink-cheeked and fucked out even though Niall's barely touched him yet.

"So..." Niall says, not really wanting to rush things, but he can still feel Louis' dick pressing against his hipbone, feel the sticky-wet on his fingers.

Louis rolls his eyes, sighing like he's the most put-upon person on the whole planet. "Alright, alright." He's smiling though, a small thing he nearly manages to hide when he turns away and drops to his hands and knees, leaving Niall to stare at his ass. Niall's seen Louis' ass more times than he can count, both in and out of clothes. Things happen. This is not like any of those times at all, because he's never seen Louis' cheeks smeared with clear shine from too much lube, never been close enough to run his fingertips featherlight over his balls, the soft sensitive skin and muscle below his hole.

"Take your time," Louis gripes, bossy as ever somehow, but he's resting his chin on his folded arms, apparently content to wait, let Niall go at his own pace.

Niall's never fucked anyone for real. The knot would've been a dead giveaway that _something_ was up, and he couldn't really afford tabloids and articles: _1D'S NIALL HORAN'S WEIRD COCK_ _HOSPITALIZES INNOCENT BYSTANDER_. But now there's Louis, pliant and soft in the middle of a hotel bed, one hand gummy with drying lube, and he's peering over his shoulder at Niall like he's been waiting for this forever.

Even after watching Louis take his own fist, Niall still can't quite reconcile that with the idea of letting his knot flare up inside him, can't shake the feeling he might get hurt. "Are you sure?" he asks, leaning over Louis' back to brush a hand over his flushed cheek, feel the way his eyelashes tickle when they flutter.

"Mount up, pup," Louis singsongs, ridiculous as ever, moving his hips back and forth. "Knot me, like I said."

Niall goes red, has to duck his head down even though there's no one but Louis to see how embarrassed he is. "God, you can't _say_ that."

Louis cackles, rolling his shoulders and twisting his neck to get a better look at Niall, kneeling unsure behind him. "I can! I've wanted to forever, and I can- listen- _knot me-_ "

"Stop!" Niall laughs, doesn't even mean it, can't hide the way his cock twitches against the back of Louis' thigh. "You're terrible."

"You love me," Louis says breezily. "And you know what else?"

"What?" Niall asks, a little hesitant, can't even imagine.

"Full moon," Louis hisses conspiratorially, shaking his ass at Niall. Niall isn't ready for that at all, has to bury his face in the dip of Louis' spine and laugh so hard he nearly chokes.

" _Christ,_ thanks, Harry Styles."

Louis scowls, reaching back to flick the top of Niall's head. " _Ugh,_ don't talk about Harry right now, I'm trying to get you to fuck me."

"Yeah, yeah." Niall's still giggling, lightheaded between laughing and all the blood between his legs. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, letting his hands slide into place in the sweet indent of Louis' waist, kneeing forward until his cock's nudging between Louis' cheeks, nearly overwhelmed already by the warm-slip of it. He isn't even sure where to go with it, never imagined himself getting this far.

"Just go slow, yeah?" Louis says softly, reaching back blindly to pat at Niall's hip. "I'll let you know if it's too much."

Niall nods even though Louis can't see it, drops one hand to his dick to help line it up correctly, and holds his breath when he presses his hips forward, biting hard at his own lip when Louis' body starts to give. It's easier than he expected, though he supposes he never really imagined Louis fisting himself before they fucked. His attention's being pulled in a thousand different directions- Louis hot around him, Louis breathing soft noises into the mattress, Louis' fingernails scrabbling and slipping over the sheets. 

His hips are pressed to the swell of Louis' ass more quickly than he ever thought possible, and it's second nature after that to hunch down, press his chest to Louis' warm back, breathe in the concentrated scent at the nape of his neck, mouth and gnaw and nip at the sensitive skin of his shoulders until Louis' shaking beneath him. That feels good, too, how quiet he goes, like he's stunned by the feeling of Niall dragging his hips away and rocking back in. He likes the way Louis squirms against Niall's hold on his hips, not like he wants to get away but like he want to feel it more, make sure it's there.

It takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for Niall's knot to start throbbing, heat pooling in this belly, then lower, settling in the base of his cock and building. He knows when Louis starts to feel it because he moans, whines, really, high in his throat, shoulder blades popping out sharp and pronounced when his back arches into the burn of it.

Niall can't help but panic a bit, now that the reality of Louis and his knot are meeting finally. Maybe now that Louis' got a taste for what it'll be like, he won't want the full thing, be too scared by the stretch of it-

"In or out?" Niall asks, frantic, gasping the question right into Louis' ear, biting at it because he can't stop himself.

Louis twists his neck away, hissing, but he throws a hand back to grab at Niall's hip, keep him buried deep as his knot pulses and swells. His voice is breathy and high, demanding, when he snaps, " _Knot me_."

So Niall does, shuts his eyes tight when his knot pops full-size, pinning Louis on his cock while he comes (and comes and comes and comes, Christ). Louis makes the strangest noise, a near-sob but ecstatic, squeezing around Niall purposefully, like he's trying to come just from the too-much of Niall's knot tying them together, one hand still fisted in the sheets while the other trembles on Niall's hip, fingers shaking.  Niall tries to fight through the haze in his brain to reach around Louis' stomach, get a hand on him and help him along, but Louis just bucks his hips away, shaking his head frantically as his muscles work over Niall's dick.

He comes a moment later, softly, whimpering and burying his face in the pillows, body arching tight before the fight goes out of him and he slips down off his knees, nearly shocking another orgasm out of himself when Niall's knot catches on his rim, nowhere near drained enough for Louis to pull away.

Niall's not sure what to do, dick still pulsing, knot still full and aching, so he stays knelt awkwardly above Louis, hips pushed down at a strange angle so it won't pull on him much. When Louis finally catches his breath, he makes a soft, pleased sound, rolling his hips experimentally and patting Niall's hip, urging him to move how he wants until they're both on their sides, heads resting on the same pillow. All Niall can smell is Louis' hair, his nose pressed right in the wildest tangled parts, and he can't remember ever feeling better, like he could sink right into this mattress and never get up again.

"How long's this last?" Louis mumbles, sounding half-asleep already.

"Dunno." Niall tries to shrug but his body is worn out, barely moves at all. "Ten minutes? Fifteen."

"Fuck." Louis doesn't actually sound too bothered, sounds like he barely understood what Niall said.

"Is that alright?" by which Niall actually means, _are you alright? Did I do alright?_

Louis just yawns, shifts back against Niall's chest and pats at Niall's hands where they're looped around his waist. "'s great, pup. Perfect."

* * *

Niall wakes up to Louis swearing in the bathroom over the sound of running water. He's out of the bed before he even processes it, hobbling to the door because it turns out kneeling and thrusting don't agree with his bum knee, no matter how well it's healed.

"Louis?" he calls, knocking on the door lightly, then deciding _fuck it_ , because there can't be much left he hasn't seen at this point. He opens the door and then stops dead, staring and trying not to laugh. Louis' standing in the shower, twisted nearly all the way around with his fingers up his ass, streams of come and shower water dripping down his thighs. He looks up when he hears Niall enter, scowls right away.

"You did this," he says sourly, gesturing at the mess running down his legs. Niall balls his fist up and bites it so he won't laugh and piss Louis off more. "How your fucking balls aren't the size of melons is beyond fucking me," Louis goes on, mostly to himself, moving his fingers vigorously and sticking his tongue out at the terrible squelching sound of it.

Niall leans back against the bathroom counter, content to watch Louis clean himself up, whispering mutinous little asides that sound a lot like _fucking buckets of it_ and _sell you to a fucking dair_ _y farm._

"Thanks," Niall says after a moment, once Louis' gotten the worst of it out. Louis looks up at him, eyebrows raised curiously.

"For what?" he asks, frowning slightly, two fingers still stuck carelessly inside himself like he's forgotten them.

"For- that. All that. Letting me knot you." Niall's face goes hot and he drops his eyes to the floor, can't face whatever Louis says next to brush it off.

The shower cuts off but Louis doesn't step out, just stands there dripping. "I asked you to," he says finally, like Niall's said something stupid.

"I know you did," Niall says slowly, not sure how to phrase what he's trying to say, "but I wanted- it's different, isn't it?"

"What?" Louis asks, voice edging higher like he's irritated, the way he gets when he's lost the plot.

Niall scrubs a hand over his face, looking back up at Louis again because he can't not. "I just- I love you, you know? It means a lot, that you'd do that for me. I appreciate it."

"Oh my god," Louis says softly, face unreadable. His voice is so, so quiet, Niall has to lean forward to hear him. "You're a fucking idiot."

Niall's face scrunches up, heart thudding to a stop in his chest, and Louis seems to shake himself out of whatever daze he'd fallen into.

"I, no- okay- listen, I didn't do it _for you_ ," he says, eyes darting to and away from Niall's face like he can't settle, nerves keyed up. "I did it for _me_ \- because of you. You know? Because I- you're just." He scowls, pinching his own thigh hard and breathing out a frustrated sigh, looking Niall square in the eyes again. "Me, too, yeah? You're-" He laughs like he can't believe how thick he's being, throwing his hands up, exasperated. "God, I've been obsessed with you every day since we met, you know? Before I even knew about your stupid knot. I always want to be with you. So much that I opened the fucking door when you could've ripped my throat out-"

Niall's grinning, doesn't even realize he's doing it until his cheeks start to cramp from the force of it.

"Don't look at me like that," Louis says, slightly hysterical. "Always trying to give me some sort of complex-"

Niall doesn't wait for Louis to tell him to kiss him this time, just goes for it. Louis breathes a sigh of relief against his mouth, whole body sagging against Niall in relief after he'd worked himself up so much.

"You're really bad at the whole feelings bit," Niall whispers into the corner of Louis' mouth, can't stop giggling like an idiot.

"Have you _met_ me?" Louis asks, rolling his eyes. 

* * *

They take every possible precaution picking the interviewer, the location, the timing- Niall’s in the dead center of a big comfy couch, Louis and Liam squished against him on one side, Zayn and Harry on the other. He’s so nervous that there’s sweat pouring down his back, but it’s easier, somehow, with Zayn and Louis pressed close on either side, an arm slung around his shoulders and a hand resting on his thigh.

The interviewer has been prepped and shown evidence (real evidence- video footage of Niall changing, not a quick handjob between near strangers), and after her initial shock and terror, she’s been very nice about the whole thing.

“So,” she says, smiling at Niall warmly, “as a werewolf, how are your senses? Do you, for instance, smell better than the rest of us?”

Niall snorts and the other boys choke out disbelieving laughs. “I don’t know,” Niall says, grinning back at her, “You tell me.” ***

The interviewer laughs self-consciously, but obliges him by leaning in and sniffing delicately at the wrist he holds out for her. "Well!" she says, pleasantly surprised. "Not bad. But, really- are your senses different? What's it like?" she prompts, polite interest written all over her face.

"It's like-" Niall hesitates, not really used to talking about it even after weeks of practice. "I can- I do have heightened senses. Like, I can tell the difference in people's scents, if that makes...sense?" He laughs at himself, steadied when Zayn squeezes his shoulders.

"Oh!" The interviewer nods thoughtfully, eyes sweeping over the five of them before settling on Niall again. "So if I gave you, say, a piece of clothing from each of your bandmates-?"

"He could tell who it was from," Liam says proudly, beaming at Niall like it's the best trick ever.

"Fascinating! So, who smells the best, then? Out of all the boys?"

Niall's heart thuds in his chest and he laughs a little wildly when Louis' hand tightens on his thigh. "Louis," he says, without even thinking about it, easy as breathing. "Always been Louis for me."

The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up high on her forehead before she manages to school her expression into something more neutral. She's spared having to come up with a response when Harry, Zayn, and Liam all snort, offended.

" _Louis_ doesn't even wear socks half the time-" Harry says sharply, scowling.

"She asked who smells the _best_ , not the _most!_ " cries Liam, leaning around Louis to fix Niall with a displeased look.

"Do you even know the last time I saw him put on a different pair of underwear?" Zayn asks flatly, looking at Niall like he's worried about his judgement.

Louis, for his part, is preening, sitting up straighter on the couch, hands folded primly in his lap. Niall's face feels hot but he can't stop grinning, hand sneaking under Louis' thigh to pinch, just a little.

"So- that's- well," the interviewer says, laughing at her own flustered speech. "Even with all that? He still smells the best?"

Niall shrugs. "It's a personal preference," he says airily. Louis squirms, face scrunching.

"I smell great, actually," he says haughtily, scowling at everyone but Niall. "The rest of you are just jealous."

"Whatever," Zayn mutters. He's smiling, though, looking between Niall and Louis suspiciously. Niall hopes the camera doesn't catch it, but then again, he decides, when Louis squawks in outrage and flails over Niall's lap to bat at Zayn, maybe he doesn't really mind who finds out.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tippingvelvets.tumblr.com)


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